Miracle
by LiveLIFEwithNORegrets
Summary: Beth was raised to rely solely on her brain. Yet in the upcoming months, she'll realize that she must rely on her heart instead. She'll place her faith in herself, 2 boys, and 1 angel. For the 1st time, she'll have to pray for a miracle. CastielxOC
1. Preface

****_Okidokie, everyone. This is my very first story on and it shall be a Supernatural fanfiction. As well, it shall be a Castiel and an OC romance story; if you don't like, you don't have to read. It shall be following the main storyline with an added character, my OC Elizabeth "Beth" Dowling from the fourth season and on. I was inspired by the Paramore song "Miracle" and that's that. I hope you all enjoy this preview AKA the preface of this story and if you do please, REVIEW! Constructive criticism is welcome, but not flaming; its not necessary nor appropriate. Thank you._

_**Disclaimer:**** I do NOT own Supernatural. That is rightfully belonged to Eric Kripke. All I own is Beth and some plot points.**_

_**Warning:**** A Castiel and OFC romance, swearing, mild sexual content, crude humor, violence, gore, and references of alcohol and drugs.**_

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><p><strong><span>Preface<span>**

**FAITH ONLY **got you so far, especially in such a life as mine.

For the most part, you had to rely on logic, skill, knowledge, and even on gut instinct sometimes. AKA, for the most part, you had to rely on your brain. Relying on your heart, or faith, could get you killed. That's how I was raised and, generally, that's how I lived my life. However, I had come to realize that having faith, following my heart, played an awful big role.

Particularly, now.

Relying solely on your heart's decision, on relying on faith, is a very scary thing. Almost paralyzing so. Yet, as it powered my fear, it also powered my resolve. If I died, I died fighting, and I died fighting alongside three of the most important people in my life. The three people, who I placed all my faith in. We were in this together, our hearts, our wills do what was right, fueling us.

And I grasped onto that.

Just as I grasped for dear life to the hands of the two brothers on each side of me. Just as I grasped for dear life on the feelings I held for a certain blue-eyed angel, praying that we'd see one another again. Just as I grasped on the belief that what we were doing was right and that destiny could shove it where the sun didn't shine.

The ground trembled and would tremor as if there was a mighty earthquake. Pieces of the abandoned church crashed around us. Blindingly blright light burst up from the floor before us through the blood created door.

Tears streamed down my face and my heart pounded in my ears, as I held onto my boys' hands tighter. I closed my eyes and, for the first time in my life, prayed for a miracle.

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><p><em>Thank you for reading~! Please review and hope to see you all next time!<em>


	2. Return of the Prodigal Son

_Here is the second segment or the first chapter of my Supernatural story. I didn't get any reviews or many alerts or favorites, but I have high hopes for this story and it is just the beginning. I hope you all enjoy this part. We'll be starting from the first episode of the fourth season. :) Thank you._

_**Disclaimer:**** I do NOT own Supernatural; it is rightfully belonged to Eric Kripke. All I own is Elizabeth "Beth" Dowling and some plot points.**_

_**Warning:**** Castiel and OFC romance, crude humor, swearing, gore, violence, mild sexual content, and drug and alcohol references.**_

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><p><strong><span>Chapter One: Return of the Prodigal Son<span>**

**I'D ****SAY THAT **nightmares were an uncommon thing, but they weren't. Not for a hunter, especially not for a hunter. However, you get used to them and are able to cope over time in some way or another. My way of coping, despite how childish it would seem to others, would be to have someone sleeping beside me, someone who shared in my nightly terrors, someone I could seek solace in.

Thus, after jolting awake in fright after dreaming of the usual death, monsters, gore, and screams, I rolled over, my hair creating a thick dark gold curtain over my face, and reached over to find my sleeping partner only to feel the cool side of the bed that my petite frame didn't take up. I opened my eyes, peering through my hair, only to confirm the emptiness next to me.

A deep sigh escaped my frowning, gnawed on lips as I buried my clammy face into my pillows. I clutched the space beside me, cursing at the people who were not there to fill it. No matter how many times I had done such in the past few, but painful months, I still found the heavy weight of disappointment on my chest. My only two sources of handling my dreams were gone, long gone, but I'd always manage to momentarily forget.

Eventually, I rolled onto my back and sat up, kicking off my sheets that felt like they were suffocating me in the summer heat. Even with my pseudo-bedroom's window open and clad in only my underwear, I felt unbearably hot. My frustration wasn't helping any either.

I needed a cold shower and a hunt. One as a relief of the humidity and the other to, ironically, take my mind off my nightmares and my loneliness.

I swung my bare legs off my bed and was about to follow through with my decisions when that familiar tickling in the back of my brain began before consuming it and images flashed before my very eyes. It didn't hurt as I was so used to the sensation, but that didn't make it any less unwelcomed as gooseflesh on my skin worsened.

Panic. Sheer panic weighed down on my chest as I fought for air before my eye tried desperately to see through pure blackness. Confusion mixes in with my fear. I scream for help, but my voice is so hoarse and dry from lack of use, my voice not being my own and sounding oddly familiar. I banged my fists, though weak, with all my might to break whatever's containing me. The sound of wood breaking resounds in my ears before dirt, rocks, and weeds come crashing down upon me. The need for air becomes even more of an issue. I try to push away my fright long enough to desperately crawl and quickly as I can through the rumble to the surface.

My point of view is changed in a flash as I'm above ground and witnessing two strong, large hands emerge from the ground near a makeshift cross and in an area that looks as if some sort of natural disaster blasted through destroying every tree in its path and killing plant life. Eventually, a man crawls his way out and my heart lurches as I recognize him. He's covered in dirt and sweat, but there's no way I can mistake that face. Not in a million years.

Gasping, my eyes snapped open as the images disappeared as quickly as they had come.

I had no time to decipher whether there were any faults in the vision as I heard the thundering ruckus of struggle from below.

My hunter instincts went into autopilot and I shot up from my bed, snatching up the ratty jeans and grey tank top that had been discarded onto my floor from last night and threw them on. I raced out of the room and down the stairs. I had only reached the last few steps when I saw one middle-aged man with a dark beard and wearing a baseball and a young man with short, very dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes scrambling about the kitchen, the older man with a knife and the younger doing his best to defend himself.

"No! Bobby, stop!" I cried out, rushing to the two men. I squeezed myself between them and tried to take the knife from Bobby or at least keep him from causing any damage. "It's him! It's really him, Bobby! I had a vision!"

The veteran hunter froze and peered down at me with furrowed brows. "…What?"

"It's him. It's Dean." I repeated slowly.

Bobby searched my face then, turned to the man behind me. Soon, he breathed with wide eyes, lowering his weapon, "Oh, my God…" I moved aside and watched Bobby as he gathered a relieved Dean Winchester into a tight hug. The younger, but taller male, more than willingly, returned the affection from the man, who was like a father to us.

Once they pulled apart, Dean turned his keen eyes to me and smiled lightly. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Lizzy."

At his voice that I could always recognize and had missed and the nickname he given me in childhood, I threw myself into his arms. He stumbled a bit, chuckling, but quickly embraced me right back, his relief and joy of being back sweeping over me. I did all I could to not break down crying as I buried my face into his muscular shoulder, feeling exactly the same way. "I-I missed you…I m-missed you so much. Y-You have no idea." I managed to choke out.

"I have a vague idea." he joked softly.

I stepped back a little. "It's so good to see you, Deano." I murmured.

"You, too, kiddo, you, too." he said, brushing my bangs from my face and I smiled wetly.

Bobby glanced between us both softly for a moment before saying, "I'm glad to seeya, too, son, but how didya bust out?"

Dean smile turned to a frown and shrugged a shoulder. "No clue. I just…I just woke up and dug myself out." He glanced to me. "You said ya had a vision, right? Y'know anything?"

I shook my head regrettably. "No," I answered. "All I saw was you returning from the dead." Bobby and Dean's frowns deepened.

"Well, that doesn't make a lick of sense." Bobby nearly huffed out, shaking his head and making his way into his home's cluttered office.

The other male scoffed. "You're preachin' to the choir here." Dean and I followed our elder while I sloppily threw my long hair into its usual braid.

"But you were _dead_, Dean." Bobby pointed out, coming around his desk. "You're chest was torn up, your insides turned to slop, you've been buried for four months. Even if you somehow did manage to slip outta Hell and back into your meatsuit, you'd-"

"I know, I know," Dean nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd look like a _Thriller_ music video reject."

"Do you…do you remember anything?" I asked hesitantly after sitting myself down on the couch near the window. I really hoped he didn't. It took all I could to forget what happened then, the memory burned into my brain; I could only imagine how it could've been for Dean.

"Not much," he muttered with a shake of his head. "I remember being a Hellhound's chew toy," I grimaced., remembering the agonized screams and never-ending blood. "And then, nothing. Next thing I know, I'm six feet under."

Bobby and I exchanged looks. Obviously, he and I weren't entirely sure how to wrap our minds around such a thing. It wasn't everyday that someone escaped Hell and came back from the dead, even for us hunters, who saw strange things on a daily basis.

"Sam's phone is turned off." At the mentioning of the younger Winchester's name, I gazed down at my bare feet to hide my scowl. "He's not…" he drifted, not even wanting to even to think that his sibling may be gone.

Bobby calmed his nerves, though. "He's alive…as far as we know."

Relief was apparent on Dean's handsome face, releasing the breath I knew he had been holding. That was before his eyebrows creased at his temple. "Wait, whaddya mean 'as far as we know'?"

Before Bobby could reply, I blurted out bitterly, fiddling with my freshly done braid, making it even messier, "He hasn't spoken to us in months."

"You're kidding," Dean looked to Bobby accusingly. "You just let him go off on his own?"

Bobby sighed. "He was deadest on it, Dean."

"Bobby, you should've been watching him."

I knew my anger was misguided since Dean had done nothing wrong, but I couldn't help scolding him, standing, "You think Bobby didn't try? Your idiot brother just up and left one night without a word. Its not Bobby's fault." No, it was mine. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been for us the past few months?" And Sam, up and leaving hadn't made it any better. "We had to fucking bury you. That's not exactly a trip to the beach, y'know?"

Guilt crossed Dean's mug, which caused the emotion to well in my chest and to look away, but soon I heard Dean inquire, "_Why_ did you guys bury me?"

"Beth and I wanted you salted and burned, usual drill, but Sam wouldn't have it."

"Well, I'm glad he won that one."

"He said you'd need a body when he brought you back home somehow." Bobby made a face at the memory. "That's 'bout all he said."

Dean's dark eyes narrowed. "Whaddya mean?"

"He was quiet. Real quiet. Hung 'round Beth for the most part. Then, one day, he took off." The guilt was increasing within me at Bobby's words and began to press down on my shoulders, but I said nothing. "He wouldn't return our calls. We tried finding him, but he don't wanna be found."

Dean, running a hand down his face, sighed deeply in frustration. "Goddammit, Sammy…"

"What?"

"Oh, he brought me back all right, but whatever he did is _bad_ mojo."

"What makes ya so sure?"

"The gravesite," I piped up, causing the men to look to me. I looked back at them solemnly. "I saw it in my vision. It looked like…like a nuke went off. Grass was as good as dead, trees were down and destroyed."

"Exactly," concurred Dean. "Then, when I was at this _Phillip_ joint down the road, there was this…this force, this presence and…and I don't know, but it blew passed me and then, _this,_" He shrugged off his green jacket, so he was just wearing his dirty, black T-shirt. He rolled up his left sleeve and immediately Bobby and I were on him, staring shocked.

On Dean's shoulder's and on a bit of his bicep was a blister of some sort. Except it wasn't your ordinary blister. It was a blister in the shape of someone's hand, a big, strong hand. It stuck out brightly on his sunkissed skin.

"_What_ the Hell?" said Bobby and I flabbergasted.

"Looks like a demon or something yanked me out," Dean made a face of discomfort. "Or rode me out."

"But why?" questioned Bobby.

"To hold up their end of the deal."

"You think Sam would've done somethin' like that?"

Yes, yes, he would. I had witnessed it firsthand the type of sacrifices the Winchesters made for each other, had made for me. I'd sacrifice anything for them, too, but I had vowed them, particularly Dean, that I would never be as foolish as them if one or both of them died. What dies should stay dead. The Winchesters couldn't deal with that unfortunately; they had always been the rebellious types.

"It's what Dean would do." I said softly, placing my tiny hand on the mark. I got a very strange feeling from it, one I couldn't decipher no matter how hard I tried.

Dean glanced down at me, but didn't argue as those were going to be his words. Instead, he said, "We need to find him and I know how."

Before we could ask, Dean moved back into the kitchen and grabbed Bobby's phone. He dialed a number and placed it to his ear until someone picked up. Very faintly, I could hear a woman's voice on the other end. "Yeah, hi. I have a cell phone account with you guys and, uh, I lost my phone." He feigned an embarrassed laugh. "I was wonderin' if you turn on the GPS for me. Yeah, the name's 'Wedge Antilles'. Social is 2474. Thank you." And with that, he hung up and headed straight for Bobby's computer in the other room.

"How'd you know he'd use that name?" queried Bobby asked we followed Dean.

I gave a very unladylike snort through my nose. "Seriously? What doesn't he know about Sam?"

"You're not one to talk, Lizzy." Dean pointed out, his tone with a bigger meaning behind it, which caused me to glower at him. He just ignored it and typed away at the keyboard before him. The dark-haired man was busy with that for a moment or two. Shortly, he spoke again, calling to Bobby and I. We responded with soft noises, indicating we were listening. "What's the deal with the liquor store and cigarette stand, huh?" he said, motioning to the beer bottles and smoke cartons littering the desk.

Bobby and I frowned, our vices causing shame to flicker across our faces. "Like Beth said, the last few months ain't been all that easy." Bobby confessed in strain.

Dean couldn't say anything more to that and returned to what he was previously doing. That was before an exasperated expression appeared. "Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois."

"Right where you were buried."

"Right where I popped up. Hell of a coincidence, donchya think?"

Bobby sighed and straightened his hat. "I guess I'll a car ready."

"And I'll get our stuff," I volunteered. I turned to Dean. "And you should go take a shower before we leave."

He gave me an odd look. "Why?"

"'Cuz I got a whiff of ya earlier, Dean, and you are no bed of roses, man. You may not look like you've been rotting away for four months, but ya certainly smell like it."

The eldest Winchester shot me a look, clearly put off by my comment while Bobby gave a snicker. I just gave an innocent grin and headed off upstairs to get ready.

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><p><em>Thank you so much for reading~! Please review!<em>


	3. Family Reunion

****_Chapter two! Please, please review! I need to know if anyone is enjoying this story. Constructive criticism is even welcomed. Anything at all. An author needs feedback. Thank you. Hope you all enjoy._

_**Disclaimer:**** I do NOT own Supernatural; it is rightfully owned by Eric Kripke. All I own is Elizabeth "Beth" Dowling and some plot points.**_

_**Warning:**** Castiel and OFC romance, swearing, crude humor, mild sexual content, gore, violence, and alcohol and drug references. **_

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Two: Family Reunion<span>**

**I ALWAYS** tried my hardest to keep my emotions in check, being a hunter and being what I was conditioned you to do such, but sometimes my wall would falter and how I truly felt seeped through. Right now, my anxieties towards the current situation must've been showing because before Bobby knocked on the door of the motel room we had discovered Sam was residing in, Dean separated my hand from my mouth as I had been biting my nails. I blushed deeply and quickly composed myself, doing my best to avoid his quizzically concerned expression.

The last thing I wanted was Dean to worry about me, he had far more pressing matters to be worried about. _I _had more pressing matters to be worried about. I should be worried about how Dean returned and if Sam had anything to do with it, not about my childish sourness towards the younger Winchester for abandoning Bobby and I, for abandoning me.

Soon enough, the door opened but not to reveal Sam, but a lovely woman with dark features, dark, pretty eyes and luscious, dark hair. She was curvy as well, almost perfectly, and that was only obvious to me since she was just in her underwear. The woman was very pleasing to the eye if Dean's reaction was any indication.

"So?" she begins in exasperation, glancing at the three of us. "Where is it?"

Bobby, Dean, and I looked to one another bemused. "Where is _what?_" asked Dean.

The taller woman rolled her eyes. "The _pizza_? That takes three people to deliver?" she pointed her annoyance growing.

Dean sighed, smiling though his disappointment albeit relief were evident in his eyes. "I think we have the wrong room."

Just nodding, the female was about to close the door when a male's voice ensnared my ears causing them to perk at the familiarity of it, "Hey, is the-" And then, a very tall, young man with wavy, chestnut locks, broad shoulders, and dark green hues appeared in the room from through the mini-kitchen.

_Sam._

Instantly, spotting Bobby, Dean, and I, he halted in his speech and his eyes widened.

A few times, the youngest Winchester opened his mouth only to close it in his shock, looking a bit like a gaping fish. He quickly looked to Bobby, who only stared back, but with fatherly warmth in his dark optics. Then, Sam glanced to me, yet I adverted my eyes feeling my sourness towards him rear its ugly head and intensify. And finally, Sam's eyes landed on the big brother, whom he thought he'd never see again.

Dean smiled ever so slightly, looking a bit choked up. "Heya, Sammy."

The eldest Winchester steadily moved into the room passed the dark-haired female towards his sibling, probably to hug and for a moment, I thought Sam was approaching Dean to do the same. However, at the last minute, I noticed his grief and animosity and the brunet whipped out the demon-killing knife we had obtained from Ruby years ago.

With a jump and gasp from Bobby, the girl, and I, Sam lunged for Dean, who, thanks to years of training, had just enough time to grab Sam's weapon-wielding wrist. The dark-haired girl shrieked as the boys struggled and Sam slammed Dean's back against the closest wall. Swiftly, Bobby and I moved, Bobby grabbing and pulling a thrashing Sam away and I pulling the frightened girl back to a safer place.

"Who are you?" bellowed Sam, trying to pry himself from Bobby.

"Like you didn't do this?" Dean snapped back.

"Do what?"

Bobby pushed Sam back. "It's him, Sam! I've been through this already! It's _really_ him! Beth had a vision!" he claimed gruffly. Sam, who was starting to calm, peered to me for confirmation. Still avoiding eye-contact, I just nodded. And he stopped revisiting, looking back to Dean. "…R-Really?"

"I know," That cheeky grin, though it seemed partially forced, appeared on the eldest brother's face. "I look fantastic."

All the anger fled from Sam's face only to be replaced by heart-warming respite and he engulfs his older, but shorter sibling in a bone-crushing embrace. Dean, more than willingly, returned the affection with as much intensity. Bobby softly grinned at the reunion and I couldn't stop the small tug at the corners of my mouth either; it was quite touching.

Nonetheless, the moment was ruined by the other female in the cheap motel room. "So are you…two, like, _together_?"

I tried not to bust out laughing, especially by the Winchesters' faces. "Wha-What?" Sam blinked, taken aback. He quickly shook his head. "No. No. He's my brother."

The girl looked between the brothers for a moment with an odd expression. "…Oh. I-I got it…I guess." She made a face like she didn't get it at all—she probably didn't since very few people actually understood the depth of Sam and Dean's brotherhood. "Look, maybe I should go…"

"Yeah, yeah. You probably should. Sorry." concurred Sam. Dean just shot her a toothy grin—some things never changed…

After that, both Sam, though he had more clothing on, and his "friend" got dressed. Once clothed properly, the girl gathered her things and headed for the door. Sam escorted her out.

"So, call me!" she said hopeful on her way out.

Inwardly, I snorted from my place on the couch beside Bobby. _He can't even take the time out of his day to call those he cares about. Don't hold your breath, honey. _Besides, even though Sam was the…politer one, I guess you could say, out of the brothers, him calling back someone he had slept with was a rarity. Hell, I hardly contacted those I slept with, even if those occasions were far and few. It was just something that came with the life of being a hunter. No real commitment, at least not romantically. Not even with two hunters…or so it would seem.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, Kelly." Sam replied with feigned enthusiasm.

Her face dropped. "Krissy."

"…Uh, right."

Krissy just offered a forced, sweet smile and left. Sam, biting his lip, closed the door and then, turned to us.

"So," Dean began after a moment of silence and while Sam was perched on the bed to yank on and tie his boots. "Tell me. What did it cost?"

Sam paused, brows furrowed, and looked to Dean. "The girl?" He let a small, coy laugh. "I don't pay, Dean."

"It's not funny, Sam." Dean chided. I could sense his patience and joy from earlier begin to ebb away. "To bring me back. What did it cost? Just your soul or was it something worse?"

"You think I made a deal?" Sam said, sounding almost appalled.

"That's _exactly_ what we think." retorted Bobby, arms crossed and stern look on his bearded face.

"Well, I didn't."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me."

Now, Sam's dismay was evident. "I'm not lying."

Dean wasn't backing down, something dark flashing across his face. "So I'm off the hook and now you're on it? Is that it?" he nearly growled out. "You're some demon's bitch boy? I didn't want to be saved like this!"

The youngest Winchester shot up and glowered at the older. "_Look_, Dean, I wish I had made a deal, alright?"

Gritting his teeth, Dean grabbed Sam's shirt collar tightly and Bobby sprang up in case a brawl broke out. I remained sitting. In my opinion, Sam deserved a good whack to the face if that was what Dean was going to do, especially if he had made a deal with a Crossroads Demon.

"There is no other way this could've gone down." Dean snarled, shaking Sam a little albeit roughly. "Now, tell the truth!"

Sam smacked Dean's hands away furiously. "I tried _everything_! That's the truth! I tried opening the Devil's Gate! Hell, I tried bargaining, but demon would deal, alright? You were rotting in Hell for months, _for months_, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry, but it wasn't me, alright? Dean, I'm sorry." His voice cracked at the end. Suddenly, immense guilt welled in my chest at his words. Sam had gone to such great lengths to retrieve Dean and it was all my fault. And seeing the intense agony in Sam's eyes as he remembered all that he tried and without prevail weighed down on my heart further. I became even angrier with him. He was such a hopeless fool.

Dean's fury evaporated and he softened. "…It's alright, Sammy. You don't havta apologize. I believe you…"

I believed him, too. The pain on his face was evidence enough, his hurt was practically bleeding out of his pores.

Bobby sighed deeply, the tension in his shoulders loosening, but only slightly. "Look, I'm glad that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question."

Ah, Bobby. You could always count on him to bring us back on track to how shitty of a situation we were in.

"If he didn't pull me out, then what did?" Dean scowled.

No one knew how to answer.

Eventually, though, after a few moments of tense silence, Sam gave a wary smile and offered everyone a beer. Nobody declined to the small stress reliever. Hell, even when Sam said I could smoke if need be, I did so.

"So what were you doing 'round here for if you weren't diggin' me out of my grave?" Dean inquired of Sam once the beers were passed around and I cracked a window open to lit up.

"Well," Sam began slowly. He sat on his bed. "Once I figured I couldn't save you, um, I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback."

Dean's eyebrows shot while Bobby and I exchanged looks. Bobby spoke up for the both of us, scolding apparent in his voice, "All by yourself? Who do ya think ya are? Ya ol' man?"

Sam's gaze became downcast, shamefully. "…Uh, yeah, Bobby, I should've called. I was…pretty messed up."

"Oh, yeah," Dean snorted, holding up something that he had picked up from the night table. It was a lacy, white bra with black, intricate designs and I felt my chest tighten. "I really feel your pain."

A blush darkened Sam's tan face as he gave a sheepish smile. That was until his eyes landed on me. I scoffed and looked away, returning to my cigarette, which I had a large intake of.

Sam cleared his throat. "Anyway, uh, I was tailing these demons out of Tennessee and, out of nowhere, they took a hard left and booked up here." he admitted.

"When?" asked Dean.

"Yesterday morning."

"When I busted out."

"Ya think those demons are here 'cuz of you?" Bobby said with an arched eyebrow. Dean gave a shrug as if that was the only explanation.

"But why?" Sam questioned his sibling.

"I don't know," Dean shook his head. "Some badass demon drags me out and the this. Its gotta be connected somehow."

"How're ya feelin' anyway?" Bobby said.

Dean's eyebrows creased at his forehead quizzically. "I'm a lil' hungry." he said after thinking.

I rolled my gray optics. He really could be a dumbass sometimes. "No, ya dipshit, he's asking if you don't feel like yourself. Y'know, if ya feel demonic or something?"

Dean glared when Bobby shrugged in validation. "C'mon, Bobby! How many times do I gotta prove I me? Beth had a vision for Chrissake! How much more proof do ya need?" he said defensively.

"We all know that Beth's visions ain't always a hundred percent and besides, no demon's gonna let you go outta the kindness of their heart." Bobby pointed out, always being the logical one. "They gotta have somethin' nasty planned."

"Well, I feel fine."

"Look," Sam cut in. "We got a whole pile of questions and no shovel. We need help."

"How 'bout Pamela?" I suggested to Bobby.

He gave a nod. "She might've heard the otha side talkin', yeah." He peered to the boys. "Beth and I know a psychic a few hours from here. She could help."

Dean jumped on the idea. "Hell yeah. Its worth a shot."

Nodding again, Bobby rose. "I'll be right back then." With that, he turned and exited the room to make a call.

Dean rose, but Sam stopped him. "You probably want this back." Sam pulled at a sting within his shirt and pulled up a black necklace with a thick golden charm of a strange looking head dangling from it. It was the necklace Sam had given Dean many, many years ago for Christmas; Dean loved that thing. We had removed it before we had buried him and Sam had kept it.

Sam handed it to him and a tender expression graced Dean's face at his precious accessory. "Thanks," he murmured.

Sam gave a tiny grin. "Don't mention it."

I couldn't help but smile a tad at the exchange.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said as Dean pulled the necklace on. "What was it like?"

Dean's face dropped, as did mine. "What? Hell?" Sam nodded. A dark, distant look appeared in Dean's eyes and I noticed a change in his demeanor. "I-I…don't know. I-I must've block it out. I don't remember a damn thing," he confessed with a shake of his head.

Sam was relieved. "Thank God for that." he said with a weak grin.

"Yeah…"

Sam gave one last grin and his brother a pat on the shoulder before announcing he was going to check out. He looked to me, but I instantly looked away, focused on my cigarette, and he left. I heard the door close behind him and glanced to Dean, who looked absolutely miserable. My brow arched and I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he spoke before I could, excusing himself to the bathroom. He escaped into the bathroom.

I wasn't going to fall for that. I knew my boys and I knew them very well. Dean was anything but alright and I had a feeling I knew what was bothering him. Thus, I took one last puff and snuffed out my smoke on the windowsill—it was a cheap room, no real harm done—and made my way to the closed bathroom door.

As I reached it, I let down my guard and almost instantaneously fear, agony, and remorse crashed over me, it was almost crippling. I had to take a deep breath before putting my wall back up and entering the bathroom without knocking. Dean started to snap at me, but I wrapped my arms around him putting a stop to his exclaim. "You _do_ remember, don't you? You remember everything, don't you?" I murmured doing my best to not let the pain he was feeling to overtake me.

He stiffened at my words. "H-How'd you-?"

I pulled away and looked up at him solemnly. "Empath, remember?" I answered, pushing the need to sound bitter from my voice and pointing to my temple.

Clairvoyant and an empath. Aren't I just a special little duck?

"Oh…" he looked away, frowning. He suddenly looked so much older than he was and it tugged at my heart. "…Yeah," he spoke reluctantly. "I remember everything."

"Dean, do you-"

"_Don't_." Dean briskly stopped me, looking at me so hard that I felt the need to step back. He softened and sighed, shaking his head. He looked so broken, so worn out. "Just don't, Beth. I can't, okay? I just can't."

I tried to seem like I wasn't hurt. I just nodded. "…Okay, I understand."

Dean searched my face for a few minutes then, placed a hand on my head, ruffling my light locks like he did when we were kids. "I'm sorry, Beth. Can you…just keep this between you and me?"

I frowned, not liking the idea of keeping his pain from his baby brother, who should definitely know, but nodded anyway. "Yeah, okay." I muttered.

With that and another ruffle of my hair, Dean left, leaving me alone in the bathroom with a all the weight I had before Dean was brought back from the dead back on my shoulders. Why did I have such a bad feeling? Nonetheless, I did what I could to brush it off, push all my dark thoughts aside and leave the motel room as well.

I went to lobby and found the other three already heading for the parking lot outside.

Despite my short legs, I quickly caught up, making sure to jog pass Sam. However, just as I went by, Sam grabbed my hand promptly stopping any movement. I tried pulling my hand away, but Sam was stronger than I, much to my annoyance. "Beth, wait," he called to me, almost desperately.

Reluctantly, I looked back at him, having to tilt my head up quite a bit. "What?" I asked as coolly as possible.

"That girl," he started steadily, ever so slowly releasing my hand once he figured that I would run away. "She was just…she didn't-"

I stopped him there, knowing exactly where he was going with this conversation. I held up my hand and shook my head, my braid moving a bit with the jerks. "I don't care who she was or what you did with her. You're allowed to sleep with whomever ya want. That's not my business, man."

"But, Beth, you and I-"

I cut him off again, "Sam, there is no 'you and I'. There's no 'us' and there's no 'we'." When his face dropped into that sad puppy dog look I knew so well, I had to tell myself to push forward or I wouldn't get what had to be said said. "We tried that, remember, Sam? And each time it failed 'cuz ya keep leaving. First time, you ran away. Second time, you went to college. And then, after Dean died. I can't do it anymore 'cuz the only one that keeps getting hurt is me. Don't get me wrong, after Dean died, things were fucked up for both us, I get that, but the fact still remains, you left me behind. So, I just can't do it anymore."

"Beth, I'm-"

I could hear Bobby and Dean calling to us and I sighed deeply in frustration. I met Sam's gaze for the first time in a long time. "_Look_, now is not the time to be talking about this. Just…go with your brother, Sammy. We'll discuss this later, okay?"

Before he could respond, I descended the stairs into the parking lot and quickly headed to Bobby's car. I scrambled inside and slammed the door shut behind me. Bobby looked to me, but was wise enough to say nothing; its not like I didn't know what he was thinking anyway.

Holding a grudge over one of those boys was a foolish thing to do because I would always forgive them because no matter what any one of us did, we were stuck with each other. That was just a fact of life for the Winchesters and I; there was no point in denying it. Nevertheless, I wanted to remain mad just a bit longer. As childish as it was, I preferred to focus on that than the dread of what I felt was to come for all of us.

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><p><em>Thank you so much for reading~! Please, review!<em>


	4. See What I See

****_Here's Chapter Three! Thank you so much to the eight people who favored and subscribed to this story and thank you to **ThursdaysChild97** for reviewing. Now, things are really rolling, I hope it keeps up. Anyway, I hope all enjoy this next part. It may seem a little confusing, but things will be explained later on. Thanks._

_**Disclaimer:**** I do NOT own Supernatural; it is rightfully owned by Eric Kripke. If I did own it, Castiel's life wouldn't suck nearly as much. All I own is Elizabeth "Beth" Dowling and some plot points.**_

_**Warning:** **Castiel and OFC romance, swearing, crude humor, mild sexual content, gore, violence, and drug and alcohol references**._

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Three: See What I See<span>**

**OVER THE **years, I had met many psychics and, if I was being completely honest, I didn't like them. Sure, I respected them for being so in tune with their powers, but when they discovered I was…that I had psychic tendencies, they tried to lecture me that I didn't have enough control and that I needed to hone it better. That did not sit well with me. If I actually enjoyed being…having psychic tendencies, I'd take them up on their offer to teach, but I didn't enjoy having what I had; I thought it was a curse. Not to mention, I didn't like being told what to do.

Thus, most psychics I met I detested. Pamela Barnes was an exception.

I had first met Pamela through Bobby a couple months of ago. She had helped me on a hunt with a vengeful ghost. The moment she laid eyes on me, she knew what I was; I guess we give off a different aura than other people. Pamela was silent for a few moments as she looked me over and when she opened her mouth, I was afraid I was going to hear what I always heard when I met other psychics, but she said nothing of the sort. Instead, the older, taller woman gave me a sad smile and said, "I understand." She didn't judge, she understood why I didn't enjoy my psychic tendencies and why I didn't want to progress further with them. I adored her-of course, I didn't say that out loud.

Long story short when Sam, Dean, Bobby, and I arrived at Pamela's house, I was more than excited to see the other female and I was enthralled that she was just as pleased to see me. I even permitted her to hug me after greeting Bobby joyously.

She beamed and patted my cheek affectionately before turning to the Winchester. "So…? Are these the boys?"

Bobby nodded. "Sam. Dean. Boys, this is Pamela Barnes, best damn psychic in the state," he announced.

"Hey," they greeted in unison.

Pamela's grin grew, as she looked the boys up and down. Clearly, she approved of what she saw. It was understandable as Sam and Dean were quite handsome; I'm sure even a blind person could see that.

"Dean Winchester," Pamela began, addressing the eldest sibling. "Out of the fire and back into the frying pan. Makes you a rare individual."

He gave a meager shrug. "If you say so."

She smiled and then, nudged her head back into her home. "Well, come on in." We all complied, following Bobby inside.

"Have you heard anything?" the oldest hunter among our little group inquired.

"Well," The dark-haired woman closed the screen door behind us once the party was inside. "I Oujia-ed my way through a dozen spirits." She disappointingly shook her head. "No one seems to know who broke your boy out or why."

"So, what's next?"

"Hmmm," she mused for a moment. "A séance, I think. See who did the deed."

Bobby looked uncertain about the idea. "You're not…gonna summon the damn thing here, are ya?"

She laughed. "No. I just wanna get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball, just without the crystal ball." Pamela glanced down at me. "Would you mind giving me a hand, Beth?"

I was a bit taken aback by the request. I thought about it for a moment before replying hesitantly, "Uh, yeah, sure, I guess." If it had been any other psychic that had asked for assistance I would've been suspicious of their motives, but I knew Pamela wasn't like that, so I agreed. She probably just wanted help setting up or something, something simple.

With that, Pamela instructed me what to get and how to set up what was needed for the séance and I obeyed. Bobby busied himself with yanking the curtains of Pamela's living room shut while we worked and the Winchesters just stood by and watched with interest.

I was throwing a black tablecloth with various and intricate symbols drawn on it upon a table of a pentagon shape. I was just smoothing out the edges when I noticed Sam and Dean's intent attention was on Pamela. Well, actually, it was on a certain part of Pamela AKA her backside as she had a tramp stamp tattooed across it. It said, in black cursive, "Jesse Forever." I had to resist rolling my eyes.

"Who's Jesse?" Dean asked aloud with a lopsided smirk.

Pamela laughed heartedly and glanced back at them with an impish twinkle in her bright eyes. "Well, it wasn't forever." she admitted in a light tone.

Sam and Dean didn't look the least bit sympathetic. "His loss." Dean said with a cluck of his tongue.

Gathering the candles she had been retrieving, Pamela smirked and stood. She strolled up to him, that mischievous look intensifying. "Maybe your gain." she murmured smoothly. And she strutted away leaving Dean to watch her go.

He turned to his bother, smiling smugly. "Dude, I am _so_ in."

"Yeah, she gonna eat you alive." Sam teased.

"Hey, I just got outta jail. _Bring it_."

Sam started to laugh, but stopped when Pamela interjected on her way to retrieve more candles, "You can join, too, grumpy." Sam looked downright ecstatic at that while Dean did not now, snapping at his brother that he most certainly was not allowed to join.

That time, I did roll my eyes.

I wasn't jealous. I wasn't. I was just…annoyed.

Dean was a very attractive man, but I thought of him as more of an older brother than anything. And Sam…well, I had promised myself that I'd try seeing him the way I saw Dean; I couldn't allow myself to go down that road again. In result, they were allowed to do whatever they wanted with whomever they wanted and Pamela was a very attractive woman. She practically oozed sexuality with her long, wavy tresses of a darkened brown, tan even skin, full curves, and smoky green eyes and was as quick as a whip. So it was understandable that attractive people were attracted to attractive people.

I wasn't jealous.

I just felt kind of plain suddenly, that's all.

Nevertheless, I brushed such childish thoughts aside, there was no time for my ridiculous insecurities, and continued helping Pamela set up for the séance.

Before long, the candles were lit and placed in the middle of the clothed table and the five of us were sitting around it, the only light coming from the candles' flames. Pamela took a few deep breaths with her eyes closed as she cleared her mind of any unnecessary thoughts. Then, her optics opened, pure focus on her face.

"Right," she breathed out. "Take each others' hands."

We did as we were told; Pamela took my hand while I took Bobby's with my other and Bobby took Sam's and Sam took Dean's. "And I need to touch something our mystery monster touched…" Pamela's free hand suddenly disappeared beneath the table. I saw Dean jumped, emitting a sharp, "Whoa!"

"Well, he didn't touch me there." he said hurriedly, a bit of pink blossoming on his cheeks.

Pamela appeared anything but abashed. "My mistake." she apologized—she wasn't the least bit sorry.

Dean just looked to the rest of us in sheepish disbelief before shrugging off his over-shirt and pulling up the left sleeve of his T-shirt. He revealed the handprint burn on his bicep, causing shock to flash on Sam's face—that's right, he had yet seen his brother's arm. Pamela eyed it for a moment then, placed her hand over it. She then, closed her eyes and began to the incantation steadily and boldly.

"_I invoke, conjure, and command you appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you appear unto me before this circle._" Out of nowhere, the TV in the corner zapped on, static and fuzz following. There came a low rumbling and soon the table we surrounded was quaking. Pamela's brows furrowed. "Castiel?" A pause. "No, sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easily."

"C-Castiel?" choked out Dean.

"Its name." she answered calmly, never opening her eyes. "It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back." She returned to speaking the incantation yet louder, "_I invoke, conjure, and command you show me your face! I invoke, conjure, and command you show me your face!_" The table was now shaking as if there was an earthquake. "_I invoke, conjure, and command you show me your face!_" At that point, Pamela was the only one with her eyes closed as the rest of us exchanged wary glances. "_I invoke, conjure, and command you show me your face!_"

"I think we should stop!" Bobby piped up.

"I'm almost got it!" Pamela protested stubbornly. She trudged onward, a buzzing ringing in our ears.

A yelp escaped as the flames from the candles burst upwards and that's when the screaming started. Pamela was screaming and I tore my eyes away from the candles long enough to see Pamela's eyes burning with a bright and painful—from the way she was screaming—light, blood streaming down her face.

And then, it all stopped, Pamela tumbling to the floor.

"Call 911!" bellowed Bobby as everyone shot to their feet. Sam ran to the phone and Dean, Bobby, and I rushed to the fallen Pamela's sides.

We sat her up carefully and she gasped for breath, tearless sobs escaping her. I tried not to vomit at the state of her eyes; there was nothing left, just burned out tissue. "I-I can't see…I can't see! Oh, God!"

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><p>It felt an eternity until the ambulance arrived. EMTs rushed in, saw the state of things, placed Pamela on a gurney and loaded into the vehicle. Bobby and I rode with her to the hospital seeing as we were the closest to her. The second we arrived at the hospital, not a moment sooner, doctors and nurses hurried Pamela to ICU and that's when the waiting started.<p>

I felt sick to my stomach, I could barely breathe.

I had been so busy worrying about Pamela that I had had no time to make sure my wall was up. All of the worry and fear the others had for Pamela and the panic that filled Pamela had consumed making my own concerns and anxieties intensify. To make matters worse I was in the hospital where there were numerous negative emotions, so those crashed over me as well.

My head pounded and my stomach was so riddled with knots that I felt like I needed to vomit. Sweat formed heavily on my brows and my breath came out harshly. I had to slam my eyes shut and take deep breath after deep breath to calm myself enough to put up my barrier and maybe even possibly figure out what the Hell had burned Pamela's eyes right out of her skull.

It took time, but eventually, I shimmered down and slowly opened my gray hues, exhaling deeply.

What had burned Pamela's eyes out? Had it been a demon? I had never heard of a demon doing such a thing. Vampire? No. Werewolf? No. Wendigo? Not possible. Ghost? Hmmm, maybe, but not their style. I went through all of the monsters I had learned of and had seen over the years of being a hunter, but each time, I came up with nothing.

My eyebrows creased at my forehead. Who the fuck was this Castiel? _What _was Castiel?

Sighing deeply, I chewed on my thumbnail. _I seriously need a cigarette_., I thought in frustration.

And I had just got up, hand in my jacket pocket where a fresh carton laid, when Pamela's doctor appeared. The need for a cigarette instantly flew from my mind as Bobby and I turned to the doctor expectantly. "Miss. Barnes has been moved from ICU," Bobby and I released the breaths we had been holding, but our relief was limited. "However, the chance of her seeing properly is slim to none; there is absolutely no tissue left to salvage." We frowned, but we had known, deep down, that there was a definite chance of Pamela's sight being permanently damaged.

"Are we permitted to see her?" I asked after a few moments of grave silence.

"She's currently unconscious, but yes," the doctor nodded. "One at a time, please. She's in the furthest room on the left hand side. Room 360."

With that, the white-coated man turned and left down the hallway to attend to his other patients. I turned to Bobby and he gave a jerk down the hallway. "You go first, Beth. I'll call the boys and tell 'em the news," he said to me. I just nodded slightly in thanks before following the doctor's directions towards the room Pamela was recuperating in.

Upon reaching her doorway, I had to take a deep breath to calm my thundering heart, pull on a calm expression, and entered steadily.

Much to my dismay, my tiny calming session did little to help when my eyes fell on the motionless woman. My stomach clenched and my throat tightened.

Her inky hair was strewn about, disheveled against the stark white hospital pillows. Pamela's usually tan complexion was pallor, most likely from blood loss and trauma, but it was still dark enough for the bandages around her eyes to stand out painfully. She was attached to a heart monitor, which beeped and beeped, being the only noise in the obnoxiously white and disinfectant-smelling room. The psychic also had one or two tubes coming from her being that was connected to bags with different colored liquids.

I hadn't known Pamela for very long, so I couldn't consider her a close friend, but I did respect and admire her. She had always seemed so strong and spunky in my eyes, so seeing her like that, felt like a harsh blow of reality. How could someone or something do such a thing? Pamela was just a psychic, who had been trying to help out and now, she was lying in the hospital with her eyes burned out of her skull and having no chance of ever seeing again.

"Oh, God, Pamela," I cursed at myself as my voice quivered. "Why did this happen?"

Suddenly, she gasped, her body jolting. "Wh-Who…Who there?" she called out fearfully. "Don't h-hurt me!"

Quickly, slightly panicking, I reached out for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Its okay, its okay, Pamela, its just me." I reassured hurriedly, worried she'd hurt herself.

At my words, she relaxed and though it was hard to tell because of the thick bandages covering them, I think her eyebrows furrowed curiously. "Beth? That you?"

"Yeah," I nodded, stupidly forgetting she couldn't see the motion. "Yeah, its me. You're-"

"In th-the…hospital, I know." she murmured. Her voice was weak, but it sound calm and held its usual tone. "The lemon pine and disinfectant smell is prac-practically…practically suffocating."

I couldn't help a tiny laugh then, awkwardly and hesitantly, asked, "…Um, how are you feeling?"

"Like I-I got my eyes burned out of…o-out of my skull."

I frowned. "I'm sorry, Pamela." was all I could think of saying.

"Why? You're not…n-not the one, wh-who made me…made me bl-blind." Her tone was light, yet I could hear the bitterness beneath it.

_So, she remembers.,_ I thought sadly.

I took a deep breath, trying to put what I wanted to say next as delicately as possible. "What the Hell did this to you, Pamela?" Sadly, I was never best at being delicate, especially not in such situations.

She didn't appear offended, though. Instead, she was silent for a few moments, a thoughtful expression on. Then, steadily, she spoke, "I-I wish I knew…I r-really do. I c-couldn't…couldn't really get a good look at h-him. I just saw…saw pure white, and blue. Th-That's it." Her frowned deepened into one of infuriation. "Oh, and I got th-the bastard's name. Castiel." Pamela turned her head in my direction. "I wish I-I could tell you more, Beth."

Making a face, I caressed my thumb over her knuckles, her hand feeling so much softer and smoother compared to mine. "No, its okay. Don't blame yourself. We'll find out who or what did this to you, I promise."

Pamela smiled ever so slightly. "You're such a good girl, aren't you?"

Blinking blankly, I felt my cheeks burn slightly. I wasn't expecting such a response. "I-I don't-"

"Hey," she cut me off, her voice becoming soft, almost like she was using a sisterly tone. I automatically focused. "I want you to promise me something."

"Uh, s-sure."

She motioned me to lean down closer, so I did so. "I know how you feel about your abilities, but what you're able to do isn't a curse, it's a gift. Use your gift to help others, Beth. You might be very surprised by what you can do. Just trust in yourself, okay? You're very special, use what makes you special," she told me gently.

"But-"

"_Promise me, Elizabeth._ Promise me that you'll have faith in yourself. Stop trying to push what makes you, you away, use it," she said sternly.

I frowned in dismay, but reluctantly, very reluctantly, replied, "I-I promise."

She smiled softly. "Good girl."

Soon, her grip loosened and there was silence.

I stiffened for a moment and had to reassure myself for a moment that she had just fallen asleep and had not died. I sighed deeply and lowered her hand to lay it beside her. I bit down on my thumbnail as I gazed at the woman, various emotions welling powerfully in my chest.

What had that all been about? Why would Pamela want to me promise something like that? I wasn't exactly sure what I had promised actually. Had I promised to use my…psychic tendencies for good…maybe? I don't think I had been using them for evil or anything. Maybe I had promised to stop acting like I wasn't psychic and start learning to be an actual psychic, trying to control my abilities. Or maybe I had promised to stop treating what I could do as a curse. Or maybe…

Ugh, God, I had no idea what I promised. Perhaps Pamela didn't even know; she had to be on very strong meds because of what she had been through, so her thoughts couldn't have been completely tangible.

And what had that "have faith in yourself" stuff meant?

I chewed on my nail harder, my brows furrowing at my forehead, so many unanswered questions rattling my brain. Like my mind didn't have enough of those already.

All I knew was that I promised something to Pamela that pertained to my psychic tendencies. And I always knew that Pamela was wrong about something in her rambling and that was that my abilities were not a gift, they were a curse and that's what they always would be. Being clairvoyant and an empath had done nothing but cause me pain since the day I was born and it would do so until the day I died.

I scowled, rubbing my now, throbbing head.

Now, I really needed a cigarette.

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><p><em>Thank you so much for reading~! Please review!<em>


	5. Hello, Goodbye

****_Guys, do you like this story or not? I don't want to be a whiner, but we're five segments into this story and only one person is reviewing. That's not giving me enough feedback nor incentive to continue. Anyway, complaining over. Thank you again for the very few of you who have reviewed, subscribed, and favored; I really appreciate it. Now, this chapter is the first time we catch a glimpse of our favorite angel and go into a little moredeteri about Sam and Beth's relationship. Hope you enjoy. Thanks. :)_

_**Disclaimer:**** I do NOT own Supernatural; it is rightfully owned by Eric Kripke, you genius you. All I own is Beth, other OFCs, and some plot points.**_

_**Warning:**** Castiel and OFC romance, swearing, mild sexual content, crude humor, gore, violence, and drug and alcohol references. **_

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Four: Hello, Goodbye<span>**

**BOBBY MOST **likely had to have been worried when I sped out of the hospital to smoke and had been completely silent during the drive back to the hotel where Dean and Sam had checked into after the incident with Pamela, but thankfully, he had said nothing to me. I didn't like people fussing over me, but even if he had asked, I had no idea what I would say to him. All I wanted to do was focus on helping Dean and figure out who or what this Castiel was, nothing more and nothing less.

Except all such thoughts escaped me when a strange sensation washed over me as I was following Bobby down the hotel's hallway towards Dean and Sam's room. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it wasn't necessarily a good one either and it was coming from their room.

Instinctively, I raced passed Bobby to the room; it was only later that I realized how I had yanked the door open without needing a key since it had been left slightly open.

I ran inside only to stop short when I saw Dean pointing a shotgun at me.

He looked surprised upon seeing me as if he had been expecting someone else and lowered his gun. The eldest Winchester opened his mouth to speak, but stopped, whimpering and covering his ears. I looked at him oddly albeit with concern; he looked like he was hearing something painfully loud like a terrible ringing. However, I heard nothing, except a small murmur, probably someone in the next room over.

Suddenly, the murmuring got louder, but while it caused me no pain, it seemed to cause Dean a great amount. I yelped, startled when the windows began shattering throughout the room. The glass ceiling above shattering followed that. And that's when I was tackled to the ground with Dean on top of me protectively. Glass cascaded down all around us and Dean and I did our best to cover ourselves from the onslaught.

It wasn't long until Bobby caught up.

He only looked at us frightfully for a second, briskly assessing the situation, before grabbing our arms and pulling us from the room. He dragged us down the hallway and it finally hit me that every room in the hotel was suffering from what the Winchesters' room had been. Bobby and Dean, though his were bleeding, were covering their ears, looking distraught. What were they hearing that I was not? All I could hear was that same murmuring, though louder but only slightly, people screaming, and glass shattering.

It was safe to say that we didn't stick around the hotel until the chaos stopped.

We had, instead, jumped in Bobby's car and took off figuring we'd meet up with Sam, who I only just noticed was gone along with the Impala, later when things had calmed down.

"How're your guys' ears?" Bobby spoke up after while from the driver's seat.

"Mine are fine." I answered truthfully.

Dean scowled back at me, a towel dabbing his oozing ear. "Well, lucky you, Lizzy. I still got church bells ringing in my head." he huffed. I just shrugged innocently; it wasn't my fault that he nearly had his hearing blown out. His scowl deepened. "You honestly didn't hear any of that?"

I shook my nod from the backseat. "No. I heard someone talking as if under their breath, but I didn't hear any ringing."

The male gave me an odd look before shaking his head and returning his focus forward. He dabbed his ear one more time before fishing his jean pocket for his cellphone. He searched through his contacts briefly before finding the one he was looking for and placed it to his good ear, listening to the dial tone.

"Whattya doing?" Dean asked the person on the other side. There was a pause. His brows furrowed. "In my car?" he said with scolding. He was speaking to Sam. "Oh, well, Bobby, and Lizzy are back. We're gonna grab a drink." he admitted, causing Bobby and I to turn to him quizzically. Dean gave us looks then, returned to talking to his sibling. "Done. Catch ya later."

He hung up.

"Uh, what the fuck was that 'bout?" I asked first. "Why'd ya lie to him 'bout where we're going?"

"'Cuz you know, Sammy, Beth, he'd just try and stop us."

"From _what_?" inquired Bobby skeptically.

"From summoning this thing." Bobby and I looked at Dean as if he had lost his mind, which was most likely the case. Dean didn't seem fazed. "Time we faced this thing head on."

Bobby spoke for the both of us. "You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack." the younger, but taller male retorted. Yep, he had definitely lost his mind. "Its high noon, baby."

"We don't know what it is." Bobby pointed out logically. "Could be demon, could be anything."

"So we gotta be ready for anything." Dean brought out Ruby's knife that had been "bestowed" upon us a while back. "We got the big, bad magic knife. You got an arsenal in the trunk. And there's three of us."

I rolled my eyes. "This is _such_ a shitty idea…" I groaned, slumping in my seat.

"I couldn't agree more," Dean said. "But what choice do we have?"

"Oh, I don't know…how 'bout _living_?" I liked living, I liked living a lot, thank you.

"Beth, whatever this is, whatever it wants, its after me and that much is certain. Right? I got no place to hide. So its either I get ganked, caught with my pants down again or we can make our stand."

Bobby sighed deeply. "Dean, we could use really use Sam for this." he argued.

Dean disagreed. "No, he's better off where he is."

"Like I said, this is such a shitty idea." I grumbled, biting down on my fingernail. I saw Dean frown through the rearview mirror but he didn't say anything else. I sighed and glanced up at the car ceiling, not being able to fight the funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.

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><p>At some point with Dean's instruction, Bobby pulled over to the side of the road near an abandoned farmland. We concluded that the barn would be the best place to summon just about anything and be big enough in case a fight broke out. That being, we unloaded the car of just about everything from the trunk and lugged it inside. Then, we got to work.<p>

Before long, nearly every inch of the dimly lighted barn was covered with graffiti of every trap and talisman of every faith from around the globe. No surface was left untouched. As well, two tables were set and that was where we had set up all of our weaponry, ranging from salt to stakes and from knives to guns. Whatever we were about summon, we were—hopefully—prepared for it. And of course, we had the ingredients for the summoning spell on one of those cluttered tables.

"Quite an art project you two got here." Dean mused with a small smirk, looking at the spay painted images along the walls and floors.

"Its every trap and talisman from every faith from 'round the globe," Bobby commented after finished a trap on the floor in white. I just was completing a talisman on the ceiling from upon a ladder. "How ya doing?" Bobby asked.

"Stakes, iron, silver, salt, the knife," Dean listed. "We're pretty much set to kill anything I've ever heard of."

"This is still a shitty idea." I pointed out, jumping down from my ladder to fold it up and put it aside.

"Yeah, Beth, I heard ya the first ten times." he snapped in exasperation. "You _and _Bobby both think it's a bad idea, _I get it._" I shot him a glare, crossing my arms over my chest, but didn't say anything else. What would be the point? He clearly wasn't going to listen to reason.

Dean turned to Bobby. "How 'bout we ring the dinner bell, then?"

Bobby looked like he didn't want anything to do with this crazy idea. Nevertheless, he shook his head and made his way to the table where the ingredients for the spell were placed. Expertly, the bearded man put and mixed everything together in the big bowl. Following that, he began reciting the incantation, speaking in Latin. And we waited in anxious silence once he was finished.

And waited.

And waited.

And _waited_.

"You sure you did the ritual right?" piped up Dean, who was playing with Ruby's knife, digging small holes in the sat he was perched upon. Bobby shot him a look, which made Dean shrink back a little. "Sorry, sorry." he said quickly before mumbling, "Touchy, touchy…"

And that's when the wind suddenly picked up and harshly making the roof above us rattle noisily and the trees surrounding us from outside rustle as if there was a threatening storm. Then, the entire barn began to tremble and all shot to our feet, wielding the nearest weapon to us. The three of us exchanged nervous glances, as we had never experienced something like this when it came to summoning monsters.

"Maybe its just wishful thinking, but maybe its just the wind?" I managed to choke out, holding my rifle tightly.

We cried out, covering our heads when, one after one, the lamps above our heads started blowing out. The doors before us shook and cracked before swinging open. I stiffened, a cold sweat washing over me a shadow appeared in the darkness. Bobby and Dean stepped closer to me.

At first, it was hard to tell what was walking towards us because of the shattering lamps obscuring our vision with bursting light, but soon, after squinting a bit, I could see the figure of a lean man.

He had to be around Dean's age, maybe a bit older because of the visible five o'clock shadow, but was shorter—of course, he was much taller than I. The man had dark, short locks and wore an suit with a blue, backwards tie beneath an old and worn out trench coat. However, that all I could make out of his features before I joined my fellow hunters in shooting the stranger because there was no doubt that he was our enemy.

Only problem was, no matter how many times we shot him, he just kept walking towards us. He didn't even wince as if we were throwing feathers at him and not hitting him with bullets of salt and silver.

We exchanged looks and threw away our obviously useless guns, deciding to pick up our next weapons in hopes of harm. Dean picked up Ruby's knife, I picked up a wooden stake, and Bobby picked and iron crowbar.

The man came to stand in the middle of the three of us with an air of complete calmness and we stared in a mixture of shock and fear. "Who are you?" Dean spat out, doing his best to sound brave.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." the man said, his voice deep and gruff, almost like sandpaper.

Dean's hazel orbs, now a dark brown, narrowed. "Yeah, thanks for that." he growled out dangerously before taking the knife in his hand and stabbing the stranger right in the chest where his heart would be.

Nothing.

_What. The. Hell…?_

The guy didn't even blink.

He just peered down at the knife protruding from him and pulled it out, discarding as if it were some plaything.

We hunters looked to one another fretfully.

Bobby acted, swinging the crowbar with all his might towards the stranger. The latter was apparently ready for the assault because without looking, without even batting an eyelash, he grabbed the iron bar, turned around and faced a dumbstruck Bobby. The stranger lifted his free hand and placed two fingers to Bobby's temple and like that, Bobby went down, unconscious.

The trench coat-wearing man looked down at the fallen man for a moment and then, turned his gaze to me and I felt my entire body freeze up. He stepped towards me; I stepped backwards until my back hit the hall. I hugged my stake to my chest even though I knew it was going to be useless, but it was all I had. The stranger looked at me for a moment, as if studying me, and then, lifted his hand like he had done with Bobby. I flinched and maybe it had been my mind playing tricks on me because I was so shaken with fear, but I could've sworn I saw guilt pass through the man's eyes.

Eyes that I just realized with him being so terribly close were a striking royal blue.

An index finger and middle finger of great warmth were pressed to my head and then, I saw blackness.

* * *

><p>I was no stranger to headaches as I had had my fair share of hangovers and when I was young and my psychic abilities were too intense at the time for my developing brain, especially when it came to feeling other people's emotions. However, none of those headaches could compete to the one I was experiencing now. I had woken up with it in Bobby's car on the way back to his house.<p>

As it turned out Castiel had needed to speak with Dean alone thus, his reasoning behind knocking Bobby and I out and causing the massive headache. Castiel was in fact an angel—yeah, I laughed when I had heard that, too—and had been ordered by God to pull Dean out of Hell. Unfortunately, that was all Dean had told me because that was all he could stand to hear so, he left the barn, taking an unconscious Bobby and I with him. He met up with Sam and they decided that everyone needed to get a goodnight's sleep, at Bobby's house where it was safe, before discussing this…discovery, I guess you could say, in the morning.

We were at Bobby's house now, but I wasn't asleep. Bobby was still unconscious and the boys were conked out on the couch and on the floor in Bobby's living room/office. I couldn't sleep, not with my pounding migraine, not without a well-deserved cigarette. And that's exactly what I did.

I perched myself on the back porch with a cigarette dangling between my lips, lazily looking at the car junkyard ahead of me along with the gray smoke rising from my vice. My brain pounded against my skull, causing me to rub it irritably occasionally, but it wasn't as painful as when I first woke up.

Thank you, nicotine and _Aleve_, you beautiful, beautiful things.

This was exactly what I needed. I didn't have to think about anything, I didn't have to be concerned about anything. For this short moment, I wasn't a hunter, I wasn't dealing with…angels (such a laughable thought), I wasn't dealing with the traumatic and confusing events from the past twenty-four hours, Hell, I wasn't even a person with psychic powers. I was just a single woman, sitting outside, enjoying a cigarette and the fresh, night air of South Dakota.

"Y'know, you really oughta quit." came a familiar voice that was smooth and deep, but not a deep as his older brother's.

And then, it was all ruined…

I did my best to be as nonchalant as possible. "Meh." was my dull response. I inhaled deeply before releasing smoke, making small rings in the air with it.

Sam sat down next to me, a bit too close to comfort. "You have bronchial asthma, Beth." he persisted after sighing.

I responded the same way finding it easier that time. "Meh."

Again, the youngest Winchester sighed deeply in frustration and in the corner of my eye I saw him rub his nose with a shake of his head. That was a clear sign that he had given up on the subject. You'd think after all these years, he'd give up faster since we had had that same conversation numerous times.

Silence fell between us for a while, but not for long as the very tall man on my left spoke again, "What did you mean that you just can't do it anymore?"

I grimaced, almost biting down on my cigarette. _…Dammit._

"You said that we could discuss the issue of us later. Well, its later, Beth." he said firmly.

"_Sam,_" I groaned out childishly. This was the last thing I wanted to talk about right now.

"Beth, you can't avoid it. We're gonna havta talk about it sometime, now is a good of time as ever." the brunet pointed out.

I sighed deeply and slowly, deciding—reluctantly—that Sam was right. Now was good of time as ever to finally say what I needed to say to him, to get some sort of closure—that was a good way of putting it, right? The two of us were alone and everyone was deep asleep, I hoped (I had thought Sam had been asleep, after all), so there wasn't a chance of anyone disturbing us. Not to mention, prolonging this needed conversation would just make things more uncomfortable and tense between the two of us and yes, I was made at him, but he was someone I cared deeply about and basically saw everyday of my life, I had to be a mature adult about this. I had been a selfish childish brat about this long enough.

"Sam, look, I'm gonna say this once and only once and if you repeat it to anyone, I will promptly punch you in the dick, got it?" I began, looking to my fellow hunter. He looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or be trepid. Ultimately, he chose to just nod. I took a deep breath before dropping my cigarette and crushing it beneath my boot. I spoke again, "You're the best sex I've ever had," I spotted a smirk tugging at the corners of Sam's mouth, but I ignored it after inwardly rolling my eyes—_men. _"And you're a great guy, you're smart, you've got a great body, you're funny, you're sweet, and Hell, you can even cook better than I can. If we were under different circumstances, you'd make a wonderful boyfriend. But the harsh reality is that we're not under different circumstances. We're hunters, we don't do relationships. I thought maybe two hunters could make a crack at it, but obviously that's not the case. You and I can't be a 'we', Sam. I'm sorry, but we can't. I don't even think we could be a fling either, we're too close for that."

My resolve started to fade away as slowly Sam's frown became deeper and deeper, sadder and sadder. To make matters worse, I could feel his hurt building. I had to look away, stare down at my twisting and untwisting hands in my lap and regain my composure. "It might be terrible to say, but I don't think I can rely on you to stay this time if we got back together 'cuz, as it would seem, when you get angry or things get too hard, you leave." _Or find someone more interesting..._

"Okay, the first time I left, I can understand that; I was just a dumb kid then. But the second time, I wanted to attend college and get an education. Why is that so wrong, Beth? If I recall, you were contemplating going for art at one point."

Sensing the growing hostility in his voice, he always got defensive when it came Dean and I bringing up him leaving for college, I got defensive myself. "Yeah, and I realized that was just a stupid pipe dream and that I couldn't leave my family, the people who took me in when they had no obligation to." I snapped, shooting him a glare in the corner of my misty orb.

He glowered back. "Okay, fine, but you can't honestly place the blame on me for leaving after Dean was sent to Hell. You're the one who had the vision that he was suffering down there, you can't tell me you didn't want to do something too." he retorted, his voice getting lower with annoyance.

"Of course I wanted to do something!" I exclaimed, purely aghast that he would even suggest that I didn't care about the man who was as much of a brother to me as he was to him. "But I wanted to figure it out how to save him with you! I missed him just as much as you, Sam! He's my brother, too, y'know?" I was standing at that point, feeling tears stinging the corners of my eyes, the emotions I had been shoving away all these months starting to boil over. "You don't think that it nearly killed me to have to see him in pure agony like that? I only shared that vision with you because I was hoping I could seek comfort in you and hope that we'd find a way to save him together to end it! But then, you just up and left! Do you even understand how much that hurt me, Sam? Do you even understand how much it hurt every single time you turned your back on me?"

"Beth," Sam called out to me, his features softening.

I shook my head, the tears finally escaping and my emotions bubbling over the edge. "No! Don't you get it, S-Sam? I-I depend…depended on y-you." I couldn't believe that I was standing there, a twenty-two-year-old woman (almost twenty-three), a tough hunter of the supernatural, crying hysterically like a tiny child. "I-I just can't…can't st-stand to have my heart broken anymore…I j-just can't t-take it anymore…You and I, we just can't…" I buried my face in my hands, pressing my palms to my eyes to will my tears away, to will my hurt, shame, and anger away. I was an adult. I was…I had psychic tendencies. So how come I couldn't control my emotions and speak boldly and freely? Sam and I couldn't be a couple, we couldn't even screw around anymore, our relationship had to be platonic from now on to spare myself anymore pain and to allow me to grow and depend on myself. However, it pained me to do this to him, to someone who I cared so deeply about, and someone who I did share a special bond with. A part of me wanted to run away and cry my eyes out, another part of me wanted to scream and tell Sam I hated him for what he had done, and another part of me wanted to apologize, take back everything I said, and fall into his arms, kissing him senseless.

God, why was I such a mess?

I had to say what needed to be said, no matter how much it hurt Sam and I. Things were probably going to be tense between us for quite some time, but I knew we'd be okay in the end. We'd be hurting for a while, I knew I would be, but things had to change and the only way that was going to happen was for me to take the first step. I had to say goodbye to what Sam and I were and say hello to just being me. We'd be okay, I'd be alright.

Ever so slowly, I exhaled deeply and lowered my hands. I sniffled and gaze to Sam, who was watching me the entire time with a solemn expression. A frown pulled at my face, my heart dropping further into my stomach. Goddammit, why did he have the perfect kicked puppy look?

"We can't be t-together, Sam, I'm sorry. Really, I am, but its better this way for me, for us."

Sam was silent for a few moments staring at me with those expressive, green hues of his, but to me, it felt so much longer and made my insides stir uneasily. Then, he finally said softly, "Are you sure, Beth?"

I gave a stiff, but firm nod. "Yes." I somehow managed to speak confidently.

He sighed, hanging his head. "All right then. I understand. I'll back off."

I felt relief wash over me. "Thank you." I said graciously. He just nodded, looking down, and I frowned. I had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him, to soothe the pain I knew I had inflicted. Instead, I ran a hand through my hair that I had permitted to be down and said as coolly as possible, trying to regain my usual nonchalant demeanor, "Well, I guess, I should head to bed. Head's still kinda bothering me."

Sam said nothing and I took that as my cue to leave, so I did.

My hand had just brushed against the doorknob of the back screen door when Sam had called out to me. Hesitantly, I peered back at the young man. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped before trying to speak again, "…You should go wake up Dean and ask him to sleep with you."

I tried not to smile at Sam's concern, touched by it. The Winchesters, especially Sam, knew of my childish habit of needing someone to sleep beside me to "fight off" the nightmares that plagued me nearly every night. Nevertheless, I shook my head, "No," Sam's eyebrows shot up. "I've been okay on my own for the past couple of months. I can manage from now on."

I knew that was a lie and I had a feeling Sam knew it, too, yet he didn't pry. I had to learn how to deal with my nightmares without a crutch and I was going to.

With that and with a tiny "goodnight" to my friend, I retreated inside.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading~! Please review!<em>


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